


Saturday Morning, Eight AM

by Ophelia Coelridge (daemonluna)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-10
Updated: 2000-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemonluna/pseuds/Ophelia%20Coelridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotaru, breakfast, and Haruka first thing in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Morning, Eight AM

Hotaru, having reduced her toast to crusts and crumbs, peered through her heavy fringe of bangs across the table. Setsuna-mama had been up even before she had, and was now seated at the kitchen table, looking calm and collected in a dressing gown patterned after a formal kimono. Sunlight streamed through the open windows as she sipped her tea and leafed absently through the morning paper. The coffee-maker gurgled. Hotaru sighed gustily, and kicked her bare feet back and forth.

"I told you no chocolate milk and I meant no chocolate milk," Setsuna said calmly, turning another page. "You know it gives you a stomach-ache. I'll pick up more soy milk on the way home today, but for now you're just going to have to wait."

Hotaru sunk lower in her chair, pouting.

"And don't pout," Setsuna added without looking up.

Hotaru pulled her loose cotton nightshirt, the one with Sailor V on the front, up over her head like a turtle in its shell. She stuck out her tongue.

"I saw that too."

She giggled and popped her head back out again. Then crossed her eyes, scrunched up her nose, and grimaced horrifically.

"You... look like a gargoyle," Setsuna said sternly, lowering the paper. "And we all know gargoyles never drink chocolate milk." Hotaru stuck out her tongue again. If Setsuna-mama was going to be rational even when she was being silly, what was the fun in that?

"If you're not careful," Michiru added, wandering into the kitchen, "your face will freeze that way." She pulled the belt of her pale blue robe tighter, and poured herself a cup of tea.

"Really?" Hotaru bounced up excitedly. "Is that true, Haruka-poppa?"

"Mmph?" said Haruka, rumpled and still mostly asleep in boxers and a loose T-shirt. She stumbled into the kitchen behind right Michiru.

Setsuna and Michiru both pointed silently to the counter.

Haruka ran absent fingers through hair tousled on one side, flat on the other, and, eyes only half-open, made an automatic bee-line for the coffee-maker. She shuffled over to the cupboard, slippers slapping against the tile floor, pulled out a mug, and poured herself a cup of black coffee with the air of one performing a religious ritual. "Wha's that 'bout Hotaru being cold?"

"Don't ask, just drink," Michiru said firmly. She pulled out a chair, sat Haruka down beside Hotaru, and settled herself across the table.

Haruka, fingers wrapped around the steaming mug in a death-grip, meekly gulped her morning caffeine.

Hotaru giggled. Michiru suppressed a smirk.

"It'll be at least another ten minutes before she realizes she's using Hotaru's Keroppi mug," Setsuna said matter-of-factly, eyes still fixed on the paper.

A look of bemusement passed over Haruka's face. It may have been the fact that Hotaru was staring at her intently, or maybe because...

"Are you playing footsie, Michiru-mama?" Hotaru asked suspiciously. She couldn't take her eyes off those two for a minute! Grown-ups, honestly!

"Drink your juice, Hotaru," Michiru said hastily, pulling one bare foot back from Haruka's ankle as the young girl gave her a carbon-copy of Setsuna's stern, measuring stare.

* * *

"Drink your juice," Kaolinite said flatly, fixing Hotaru with a clinical scrutiny.

Sitting silently at the barren, gleaming countertop, the frail adolescent stared back sullenly.

"I'm not thirsty," she muttered. Black-clad shoulders hunched, she stared forlornly around the sterile chill of the empty kitchen. Chrome and steel and Kaolinite glared back at her.

"Drink it anyhow." Kaolinite's high heels clicked a sharp staccato, loud enough to echo. The door swung shut behind her.

Hotaru looked down into the bowl of cold cereal, pushing the soggy mess back and forth absently with her spoon. Eventually, she got up, carried her dishes to the sink, and carefully scraped the bowl of cereal down the drain. The glass of juice followed suit. She meticulously rinsed her dishes clean, and left them on the drainboard to dry.

The door swung shut once again, and the room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead florescent lights.

* * *

Haruka finally looked down at the now almost-empty mug. Looked up at the three sets of eyes watching her intently, and back down at the mug. It was green. It was cute. It had a smiling frog on it.

Hotaru and Michiru both burst into giggles this time. Setsuna wisely said nothing, but what looked suspiciously like a smirk hovered around the edges of her mouth.

"Hate mornings," Haruka muttered plaintively, head down on the table.

"I don't," Hotaru said complacently, carefully building a bridge across her plate with her discarded toast crusts. "Not any more."


End file.
